


Covered in Sea Salt

by Turtles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Sailor AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:58:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtles/pseuds/Turtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a stowaway, who makes a life on a ship. Louis has a life on ship, and is unmade by a stowaway. But really it's more about making out in taverns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covered in Sea Salt

“He's really young,” are the first words out of Louis' mouth, looking at the ragged youth that showed up below decks half way to Tobago. Captain Simon is standing behind him, mouth at half scowl, he's notoriously bad at dealing with stowaways, but something about this one is tugging at the seams of Louis. 

Simon sighs and rolls his eyes at Louis. Louis has been on the ship literally since he was born, the kid of the cook, so he's grown reluctantly into Simon's heart. He drawls in Louis' direction, “Do you want to take this then?” 

Looking at the way the kid has a quiver in his chin but a set look in his eyes, Louis has no choice but to say yes.

-

Harry spends the first week and a half being more seasick than anyone Louis has ever met. He and Louis are sharing a cabin below decks, because as Simon says, “If you want to keep him, then give up your own living space.”

The first night, from the bunk above Harry's he hears his pitiful whimpering and Louis rolls over to the side to stare down at the boy, “If you knew you were going to be seasick why exactly did you stow away on a ship?”

Harry's stopped whimpering and is looking up at Louis as if he can't actually believe Lou's talking to him. It hasn't exactly been a most welcoming day, stowaways aren't generally greeted with open hearts on the ship. No one has really dared touch Harry though, after Louis laid a hand on his shoulder during mess and kept it there.

Harry starts picking at the threads in his blanket, and clears his throat nervously. “I'm from a small town you know?”

Louis grins down at him, not entirely nicely, “And you thought stowing away on a merchant ship and working for small to little pay for long hours was the way to get out and see the world?”

Harry looks up at Louis from where he's been picking at the blanket and Louis can't breathe in the face of realising how fucking green Harry's eyes ended up being. Harry's voice is low and steady and he says, “Don't you ever feel a pull? Like you're just, supposed to be somewhere?”

Louis breaks eye contact with Harry and rolls onto his back to lay down again. “Yeah,” he chokes out, “Yeah, I do.”

–  
Luckily, after the initial bout of seasickness, Harry settles into his position as a part of the crew pretty quickly. Louis is the quartermaster, takes care of the equipment on board. Somehow along the way though, his job became more taking care of everyone on board. 

Louis had assigned Harry to work with his mum in the galley after Harry had told him that he was a fair hand at cooking. The man who had been helping her out had recently gotten married and left the ship. 

Louis walks into the galley one day to hear his mum going, “And then boobear just up and takes his clothes off and goes running straight into the Captain's quarters, I swear I thought he was going to be made walk the plank right then.”

“Talking fallacies about your quartermaster, then? Maybe you ought to be the one to walk the plank?” Harry straightens up and glances oddly at Louis, which considering how much time Harry spends glancing oddly at Louis, is actually more normal at this point.

Jay just tinkles a laugh and pulls him close for a smooch, before scuttling away behind a tremendous pot of what is quite probably, slop.

Harry leans against the table where he's been chopping up dried meat to put in the slop, he has a dimple on his face which means he's gone and gotten cocky. “So, boobear-”

Louis leans over the table and slaps both hands to Harry's mouth, “I'll stop you there before I have to cut off your bollocks. Remember, I know where you sleep, Styles.”

Louis feels the wet swipe of Harry's tongue against his palm, and retracts like he's been burned, while Harry pulls a face of disgust, “Where have your hands been, mate?”

Louis waggles his eyebrows and his fingers and says, “That's for me to know and for you to regret licking me.”

Harry smiles at Louis, because of course when has this boy responded properly to a slagging off and says, “I dunno, Louis, I think it could be hard to regret licking you.”

Harry turns back to his chopping, but Louis is just staring at this curly bastard's face thinking, 'Well, I'm properly fucked.' 

–

It sort of comes to a head when they stop at the next port. Once they've concluded their business it's practically tradition to get completely hammered at whatever local tavern is unlucky enough to be picked that night.

Apparently, where Harry is from there's only a small pub visited by old men, and port cities aren't exactly known for the quiet life atmosphere they bring. Everybody is a bit rough and tumble, and Harry 's trying to charm everybody at this bar, and godamnit, it's working.

So, Louis does what he does best and pulls a bottle of rum from behind the counter and starts taking strong pulls from it. Halfway through the bottle he's crowding into Harry's space, watching his throat as he swallows at the proximity of Lou's body. Louis brings the bottle to Harry's lips and tilts it, telling Harry to drink with damp lips pressed close to his ear.

Harry's mouth opens eagerly against the bottle and he drinks from it heavily, never losing Louis' eyes. Louis tilts the bottle back down after a moment and looks down at Harry's pink wet lips and says, “There you go, darling, does that feel better?” 

The tavern is crowded and loud. Tarts are everywhere, corsets pushing their tits near to their faces, showing off bodies Harry has never seen before. His eyes catch on the breasts of the woman behind Louis, doing a shake and shimmy dance that does entrancing things. Louis turns to see what Harry's looking at and his eyes catch on her chest too. 

Suddenly, the entire view is soured for Harry. He's more than a little tipsy having had people buy him drinks all night, and the strong rum Louis had poured down his throat. So, when Louis goes to sit down in the chair next to him, Harry slides on top of Louis as well.

Louis is startled, but pleased, and his hands find a home at the small of Harry's back, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of his trousers where the curve of his ass begins. The woman has just taken her top of and the tavern erupts in raucous catcalls, so Harry has even more reason to lean in when he asks, “Do you like her more than me?”

Harry feels so much in this moment, waiting for Louis' answer, because Louis is the one who let him stay. Who shared his room, and cradled his head when he was feeling terrible that first week. He introduced him to his mum, and showed him how to walk on deck. Even when he wasn't sure if this was the right life, if he could do this. Louis' hand would wrap around his shoulder like it did the first day in the mess and something just right would settle in Harry's stomach.

After Louis has taken care of Harry like this, all he wants to do is please him, be his favourite thing.

So when Louis' breath hiccups and he says, “God, Harry, who could like anything more than you?” Harry mewls and buries his head in the crook of Louis' neck working with his tongue to the base of his throat where he sucks. All Louis can do is moan and take Harry in, the rum wet lips against his adam's apple, the curly hair damp with sweat on the nape of his neck.

Louis wraps one hand around the back of Harry's neck, thumb resting on the pulse and drags him towards Louis' mouth. Not that there's much dragging when Harry is actively surging towards Louis, mouth sweet and wet. Harry grinds down onto Louis and they're both drunk and uncoordinated, so sometimes Harry will get distracted and start peppering kisses all over Louis' face and latch onto his ear.

Louis is keeping one hand firmly on Harry's ass groping as he's been meaning to do and the other one tangled in Harry's hair to bring him back and mouth at his bottom lip wetly, and slide their tongues together. To just feel Harry's wet mouth against him, and when Harry bites down on Louis' bottom lip he has no choice but to thrust upwards against Harry's ass. Making Harry moan for it, the feel of Louis' thighs moving beneath his own spread ones.

Harry's sly hands move across Louis' body not feeling them settle anywhere. Moving down his arms, and across his nipples, making Louis breathe roughly against Harry's face. Louis brings Harry firmly down on top of him groaning upwards, and devours him. Nipping at the soft skin at Harry's throat, bruising the soft skin of Harry's collarbone with his teeth. Dear lord, and it feels like Harry is going to come in his pants at any second, but it seems like that's exactly what Louis wants.

“Lou, Lou,” he keeps whimpering against him, and Louis' hands are slipping underneath the fabric of Harry's trousers and when Louis brushes his thumb against the sensitive skin of his asshole and keeps sliding to rub at his perineum, Harry absolutely loses it. His hands clench against Louis' shoulders, and he comes, shaking apart and giving muted damp exhalations by Louis' ear.

When Harry comes back down, he looks at Louis and his eyes are smoldering. His lips are wet from where he's been biting at Harry. When Harry looks down his cock is tenting his pants, swollen and aroused. Harry goes to reach for it, get it in his hands, but Louis stops him with a hand on his wrist and says, “No, we're going back and doing this right. This was just to take your edge off.”

That night Louis works him over, leaves Harry pliant and loose limbed at night when he curls into him. Staggering in the morning, and smiling when he presses against the finger shaped bruises on his hips.

–  
Years will pass and Harry and Louis will sit on the deck at midnight, with the moonlight pouring down on them. The salt air will be imprinted on their skin, like they are on each other. No sound but the ocean will come through to them, the pull of the moon on the tide feeling as visceral as the pull they have on each other. Louis will tangle his hand in Harry's, and Harry will bring their hands onto Louis' thigh. Neither will say I love you, but both will feel it in each other's pulses.


End file.
